“Come and see me,” Obama said. “Bring the kids and come out to DC …” “OK,” I said, as if one of my mates from the band had just invited the kids and me over to an impromptu gig at Simon or Rob’s house. “We’ll do that.” “Who was on the phone,” my dad asked. “Barack Obama,” I said. “He’s asked me and the kids to go see him in the White House.” My parents and my sister looked at me as if I’d gone mad. And then, for the first time since Jo died, we laughed. Barack Obama was warmer and even more approachable than I had hoped.

He set us at ease – so much so that Cuillin asked if it was true that British people had burned down the White House. Obama grinned. “Yes, you did burn it down,” he said cheerfully, “but it’s much nicer now. Do you like it?” “Yeah,” both kids replied in unison. We now have a lovely photograph of Lejla reaching up with her left arm to embrace President Obama while her right foot arches behind her. Barack Obama holds her drawing of the blue sea, full of colourful fish, in his left hand. His right arm encircles her. Cuillin, Jessie and I are beaming in the background. It was Cuillin’s turn next and he fell happily into an Obama hug. My gaze drifted from that happy scene to the prized picture we would be keeping. I couldn’t stop smiling, making a mental note to present this very drawing in a frame to Cuillin on his 18th birthday.